4th Day of School

OK…so the first day of school was a breeze…a no-brainer. I was really starting to feel pretty arrogant about how well the whole "school" thing was unfolding…and then we hit day 4. Approximately 15 minutes before we were supposed to leave and pick up our carpool kids, I asked MC to go get dressed. He simply looked and me and said, "No." I wasn’t overly concerned until I asked him again 5 minutes later, with 10 minutes until departure time, and he still calmly but firmly answered, "No". I girded my loins, grabbed his clothes and marched into the family room with 5 minutes until take off. He heard me coming and before I could reach the side of the couch, he was crouching defensively on one side of the kitchen island, safely out of reach. "MC, I’m not going to ask you again. It is time to get dressed for school. We are going to be late picking up the other kids. You need to put your clothes on." It may have been my imagination but I swear he growled at me.

Just a side note for those of you who thought having an island in the middle of the kitchen was a pretty slick idea. I’m going to let you in on something. That same island that you thought would be a stunning, convenient addition to your kitchen will prove to be the very thing that will one day back you into a bad place, a dark, lonely, desperate corner. Picture this…your 5-year old son doesn’t want to get dressed and go to kindergarten. He is on one side of the island and you are facing him from the other side. To make things worse, you are wearing socks and it’s a hard wood floor. Your hands are full of clothes and you are eyeing each other like boxers in a ring. You make a move, he moves with you. You attempt to move the other way and he has already anticipated your move…he slides the other direction. You could try to chase him but who are you kidding. He is barefoot AND 5 years old and your body is not what it once was…especially taking those slippery corners. You can threaten him but it doesn’t do any good because you know you can’t catch him. Suddenly you hear the front door open. Your 3-year old is wandering outside but if you change positions, you know that 5-year old will make a break for it and catching him outside is not only tricky but you know this child is not above pulling out all the stops and screaming at the top of his lungs, "Help! Someone please help me!" and you don’t know how many more times you can convince the neighbors next door that he is just a really dramatic child and you aren’t really beating him. He smells the fresh air and eyes the open door. You crouch. You may only have one chance and you have to be ready. He moves and after a slippery start, you’re after him. He makes it out into the grass before you throw the clothes into the air and body slam him on the grass. You’ve got him and you are ready. You grab the screaming 5-year old under your arm, throw open the door to the mini-van, toss him in and yell at your 3-year old to get in or get left behind because you are a grown-up on a mission and getting this child to kindergarten precedes all other things (including whether the 3-year old is actually wearing pants or shoes). You grab his clothes, attempt to fasten the seat belt, slam the door and lock it before he has time to unbuckle and get it open. You pause for a moment…he may be screaming bloody murder, but he’s in and for a moment you taste victory.

OK…so I’m not saying I’m sure that’s how it is for people but I’ve just heard.

We pick up the other 2 kids and MC stops crying. I figure he has it out of his system and he will have a chance to cool down before we get to school. All is well…until we pull up to the kindergarten doors. Before I even stop the car, he is flattened against the seat in the back where not only can I not reach, but I have difficulty "fitting". The other 2 kids get out and back away slowly, unwilling to look away but too frightened to stay close. I gently try to coerce MC to the front. I flatter him, bribe him, threaten him, and finally reach in with my super human stretchy arms, grab him by the back of the shirt and drag him around to the door. I then have to completely undress him and redress him in something akin to "Sunday" clothes (blasted school uniform…which I actually love but hate trying to get on a coiled, angry kindergartener). Other parents are pulling up to drop off their children and mine is literally on the sidewalk with me on top, my knee pinned on top of his chest to keep him down while I try to force on a pair of socks. I’m sweating, he’s screaming, and people really don’t want to get involved but they can’t look away. It is a bad car accident happening right on the sidewalk in front of the kindergarten door. I’m afraid someone is going to call Child Protective Services so I keep trying to wave my hands and roll my eyes and say, "Ha. Kids! Aren’t they great?" but no one is buying my forced complacency and they’re dying to see who is going to win the battle. HB is sitting in her car seat singing to her herself. It has become her defense mechanism.

Finally, it is over. MC is standing there in a uniform and I look a little flushed and disheveled but we are ready. I walk him into his classroom where he takes one look at his teacher and the whole class sitting serenely on the rug for "circle time" and he grabs my leg and screams, "Please don’t leave me! Mom, please don’t leave me!" Suddenly this child that I wanted to string up a minute ago is tugging at my heart strings so hard that I’m afraid I’m going to grab him and make a run for the door. What am I doing? I can’t leave him here. He is sad. He wants his mom. He has great big, blue eyes and delicious cheeks and he needs me to rescue him from kindergarten. I’m frozen in place. I can’t move. Finally his teacher gently takes MC and tells me to go. She can handle it and he will be fine. I back out of the classroom reluctantly. Will he really be fine? He is screaming my name. He wants me. I can’t leave him here.

I wander out to the car bewildered. What just happened here? I drive away slowly with a heavy heart and really wild hair. No one warned me a mother could feel 2 opposing extreme emotions in such a short amount of time. I fret for 3 hours.

And then he bounds home as if nothing has happened. Life is good and he earned a green card and he loves school and I’m wondering if my child is bi-polar and needs medication. While I wonder about him, I feel pretty certain about me. If this is kindergarten with MC, I’m going to need to be medicated. Heavily. I head in to my room and to take a long nap. I’m going to need all my strength to face day 5.